Love and Karma

I don’t know that I really believe in either of them
I suppose these are actually two separate thoughts
That have been surfacing; resurfacing
Bobbing really
Like bones in an arctic lake
They continue to distract and mystify
Until dissected into comfortable banality
And intrigue dissipates
I’ll take the bait
Garner the fuck’s-wrong-with-you looks
From the fresher souls that cling peachy
To the idea of warm-fuzzies balance
The people who believe
In non-sexual happy endings
Real reward and punishment types
That keep their fate
In the hands
Of undefined divines
And out of their own

Which is why
I guess
I’ve developed a distaste for Karma..and Love.
They are shackles that feel light
The euphoria they imbue
Breeds a malingering strain of acceptance
There’s no reason to act against evil
When the Bureau of Karmic Affairs
Will be on fucking top of it
In two to four week-day lifetimes
It’s preposterous and obvious
And I hate to be the Messenger
Turned harbinger here
But there’s no file room
Spectrally assembled in the cloud
Just to track all thoughts and actions
And their respective polarities
No transcendental permanent record
No bureaucracy shuffling papers through
To punish the evils of the current presidency
Oligarchy, or asshole holding up the queue
It’s just us
Paralyzed by mystic balance
And its equated weight
In silver, gold, and bloody diamonds

And then there was Love

Love Is…
A series of chemical reactions
Pheromones, receptors
Passive, meaningless, vestigial
As much as any internally secreted stimulant
As adrenaline or DMT
And it wears as much as rubs off
Like most things
Impermanent

And it can be beautiful
Admittedly, I myself am a heavy recreational user
Tumbling over strangers, trees, crustaceans
Colors, and the elderly regularly
I’m a fucking junkie when the mood strikes
But I’m smart enough
Not to believe my own bullshit
When I’m tripping

And it’s not that I’m not a romantic or anything
I mean I’m really not, most of the time
But I just think a long-lasting bond
Must be formed from something more
Than chemical dependency
It is more important to connect
With no expectation
Gently

Just like goodness is for its own sake
Or it is not goodness
It is falling in line
It is complacence
It is for an end
And selfish
A carousel of self-indulgence

Is love farcical
In the way we excrete and exert it
Combine it with things it has very little to do with
We objectify and obsess over our affections
Mistake cocktails and forms
Fucking and fun
For a chain
To hang hooked from
For a lifetime
Wasted
Waiting
On Love and Karma
To rescue us
When we should be saving ourselves
Before our time runs out

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About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written, Written Work and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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